It felt sad to think that part of her life was over.
These days, the robe was getting a bit snug through the hips and breasts—the two places Christine always filled out first when she gained weight. It was time to lay off the Cup Noodles, she thought to herself. But healthy food got expensive fast. What she really needed to do was plant her own garden once Spring rolled around.
The scratching came again, more insistent this time.
“I’m coming, Queenie,” Christine muttered. On very cold nights Queen of Sheba—the Siamese mix—would decide that the little kitty house on the back porch wasn’t warm enough for her. She would scratch at the back door until Christine let her in to sleep by the potbellied stove in the kitchen. In the morning, she would scratch again to be let back outside.
Christine didn’t mind having a feline overnight guest—Queenie was never made a mess or scratched the furniture—it was as though she knew she had to be on her best behavior if she wanted to keep sleeping inside. What Christine did mind was opening the door to the icy outside and letting the heat her small cabin had accumulated out into the night. Queen of Sheba had better scoot her furry butt in fast.
“All right, Queenie, let’s make this quick,” she said, as she opened the back door. “I don’t want to let all the heat ou…”
But the words died on her lips. For standing in the doorway was no stray cat—or at least not the one Christine had been expecting.
It was the creature she’d freed from the trap and it was standing on its hind legs and staring down at her with those wild, golden-green eyes, as though asking for admittance.
TEN
“Oh…oh my God!” Christine gasped, backing away from the door. An icy wind was blowing into the cabin but she barely noticed it. All her attention was focused on the enormous striped creature standing in her doorway.
He had to be seven feet tall, she thought, as she stared up at him. Broad shoulders filled the door and a muscular chest and rippling abs were visible under the dense, velvety fur.
The fur of his chest and abdomen wasn’t the deep, burnt umber orange with black stripes like the rest of him—it was a warm, rich cream color that extended up to his throat and down to his crotch, where the fur grew a little thicker and shaggier between his legs, hiding his male equipment.
For a long moment they just stared at each other. Christine was trying to process what she was seeing—how was the creature standing on its hind legs? Was it actually a man in a fur suit? If so, it was the most realistic costume she’d ever seen in her life. Something about it tickled a memory far back in her brain. She had seen another man who looked like a big cat—where had she seen him?
On the TV the other day—the news was on. They were talking about those new Kindred again and the one who married that fancy British politician!
Suddenly the word came to her.
“Monstrum!” she exclaimed, looking up at the creature—or maybe he was just an alien man. “You’re a Monstrum Kindred, aren’t you?”
The big Monstrum nodded once as though he understood her.
Christine nodded back—suddenly everything was clicking into place.
“You look like that lion man I saw on TV the other day, only you’re more of a tiger, aren’t you?” she asked. “With those stripes and that fur, you have to be.”
The Monstrum nodded again and just then a chilly gust of air rushed into the cabin and Christine realized he was still just standing there in the cold, as though waiting to be asked in.
Should she let him in? He was a seven-foot-tall alien covered in fur who looked more beast than man. Was he dangerous? He had snarled at her earlier, but he had been in pain and frightened. And she had heard that the Kindred never hurt women. But this guy was so big and wild, he could break her in two like a matchstick with those massive arms if he wanted to. He—
And then she saw the droplets of blood on the fur around his right ankle and all other considerations fell away.
“Oh, you’re still hurt!” she exclaimed, stepping out of the doorway. “Of course—come in—let me see what I can do for that.” She pointed at his wounded ankle.
The enormous Monstrum stepped inside hesitantly and Christine closed the door behind him. He seemed to fill the entire back hallway with his furry presence—his head nearly brushing the cabin’s low ceiling—and for a moment she wasn’t sure what to do with him. Then the Monstrum did something that surprised her—though perhaps it shouldn’t have.
He leaned down and buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply.